The bad seed

My friend Pat is my oldest gay friend. I met him the summer I came out. You may know someone like Pat. He has the face of an angel and the soul of serial killer. He is one of those people that you do not want to piss off because he will get you. BC nicknamed him Rhoda Penmark.

Years ago Pat and his boyfriend Richard had a nasty break up. Richard packed up his suitcases to leave and then went to gas up his car. He came back, picked up his bags, and drove off. When he unpacked his bags at his new apartment he found that Pat had opened each suitcase while he was gone and had peed on all his clothes. Pat said that if Richard wanted to leave then he needed to learn how to do his own laundry.

One summer I flew to Vegas to visit Pat. He was the dance captain of the Folies Bergere show at the Tropicana. He and another dancer had the hots for the new boy in the show. The Folies showroom had a raked stage and in front of the whole length of the stage was a pool with dancing fountains. Twice while I was there Pat managed to accidentally shove, bump, or nudge his rival into the fountain during the show. Pat said the dancer couldn’t swim any better than he could dance.

After he decided to quit dancing he went to beauty school and became a hairdresser. One time he had a customer that was boring him to tears. The lady babbled on and on and he couldn’t get her to shut up. So when he curled her bangs he accidentally pressed the hot curling iron to her forehead. Pat said he didn’t charge her for the facial.

We talked last night.
Ray: It was a very long time ago but I actually remember when you were nice.
Pat: Yeah, well it was also a very long time ago but I actually remember when you were cute.

Where is Jeffrey Dahmer when I need him? On second thought Pat would probably take him out in the first round.